Petshop of Horrors II
by QTPiL13
Summary: The saga continues
1. Dignity

**Disclaimer: **Nothing is mine besides the plot. Much of the beginning of this chapter was taken from the Petshop of Horrors 10. Any dialogue before "Do you know if he ever made it?" is not mine. But any after that is mine.

**A/N: **This is my first Petshop of Horrors fanfiction. This is set just after the end of the last PoH... Actually, the first half of this chapter actually is the end of the last book. Please read and review... If you have any ideas for episodes, please feel free to share them with me. I will give credit!

* * *

The city was alive this morning, filled with people walking on the streets, on their way to work or on their way home from a hard night of partying. Inside the headquarters of FBI, the detectives were already hard at work. 

"You've gotta be kidding me. Another one?" One asked, collapsing with a sigh into his swivel chair.

"Yes, the victim's a young male, 27 years of age. And like the others he had recently paid a visit to a pet shop in Chinatown." A pretty woman, blonde hair done up in a tight bun, replied.

"This one's mine!" Chris Orcot grabbed his jacket from the coat-rack, running out the door before anyone could stop him.

"Huh? Hey, Orcot! Wait!"

Chris walked down the city streets; his jacket hung from one finger, draped over his back. The rays of the sunlight caught his blue eyes, making them twinkle with life. The bustling sounds of the city rang in his ears, and his nose was assaulted by the smells of Chinese food. He had reached his destination: a quaint pastry shop. He walked in, and headed for the counter. He was greeted by a squat Chinese man, with a bald head and a handlebar moustache. "I'll take some cherry tarts. Lots of them."

A few minutes later, the young man found himself banging on the door of a tiny shop, so small it took up next to no space on the streetfront. "This is the FBI! Open up! I have some questions for you!" He called to whomever was inside.

"If they're about that poor man's accident, then there is nothing more to discuss." A feminine voice called back through the closed door.

"They're not," Chris replied, "They're about your father, actually."

"Father isn't here right now."

"Well, that's a shame. I brought him some cherry tarts." Chris smiled to himself. It was only a matter of time, now. Count D couldn't resist sweets. It was a miracle his teeth hadn't rotted away…

The door opened, and a young man. He was about six inches shorter than Chris was, with sleek black hair and a pretty face. Dressed in a kimono, this man could have easily been mistaken for a woman, had Orcot not known better. "Well, we can't have those go to waste. Would you like some tea?"

Chris nodded and followed the man inside. The two sat across from each other, in comfortable plush chairs. The smell of incense wafted in the air, and Chris inhaled the familiar scent. It was so comforting to him, it reminded the man of his childhood. "I was wondering… 20 years ago, my older brother, Leon, left to return something to Count D. something that the count had left behind. Do you know if he ever made it?"

"I do not know… I have not seen my father in a long time. He is out of the country." D replied, smiling at Chris. A small line of cherry jam ran from his lip, like blood.

"Oh, I see." Chris nodded, taking a sip of tea. It was far too sweet, more sugar than actual tea. The first time he had tried it, back when he still lived with the Count, he had almost gagged. But this time, he expected it. "Just out of curiousity, what did you sell that man anyway?"

"What man?" The young count smiled pleasantly, eyes wide and shining with innocence.

"The one they found yesterday in his apartment, half-eaten." Chris replied casually, watching D with interest.

D frowned, looking down at the floor. "Oh, that man. So tragic… I sold him a dog. It must have turned on its master… I wonder what that awful man did to provoke it?" A spark of anger flashed across his face, which Chris noted to himself. This one was much more open with his emotion than his father was.

"Apparently nothing… He had plenty of toys, the brushes and combs looked like they had been used, there was still food in his bowl…"

"Bowl?" D snapped, looking up suddenly. "Well, no wonder he attacked him… I gave him plenty of warning. He signed the contract."

Chris nodded his head, asking, "So was the man supposed to feed the dog from a plate or something?"

"Yes, yes… The dog he chose was… quite sophisticated… It would only eat so called 'people food'," The Count made quotation marks in the air with his fingers, "Off of a plate. Seated at the table…"

"But, it's an animal."

"Aren't we?"


	2. Demand

**Disclaimer: **Still not mine.

**A/N: **Thank you, Crystal D. Starlit, for the review! Tell your friends. ;)

* * *

Night brought silence to Chinatown, the only sound being the soft buzzing of the street-lamps. A man hurried down the street, knocking on the door of the pet shop. His clothes were a mottled gray, torn and tattered from use. He looked young, with thick brown hair and stubble on his chin. He knocked again. 

"Coming!" D chirped, opening the door. "Ooh, a customer! Do come in!" He grinned, beckoning the man inside. "Tea?"

"Yes, please." The man's voice was surprisingly youthful, a soft tenor that didn't match his gruff appearance.

After they had had a drink, D was down to business. Sitting with his hands folded in his lap, crisp folds of his pale yellow kimono covering crossed ankles, he gazed curiously at the man. "What can I do for you?"

"I'd like a pet. Something low maintenance… Cheap. I don't have much money."

A small smirk played across the Count's lips, despite himself. "How about a goldfish?"

This procured a snort from the youth. "A goldfish? What would I do with a goldfish? I hear they eat like crazy…"

"I promise, the particular fish I have in mind has a very small appetite." Count D smiled, eyes squinting shut. "She will be a good for you."

"…Alright. Fine, I'll take the goldfish. How much will it be?"

After a moment of hesitation, in which the count looked the young man up and down, D responded, "For you? Free. Here, let's sign this contract."

* * *

Brent Park sat in the alleyway he had made into his home, staring at the fish in the bowl on the ground before him. Funny, it looked… human. Like a tiny orange-haired pixie, clad in a dress made of… gold coins? His mouth watered. Just one of those coins could pay for a meal. The man could feel his stomach rumbling… It definitely was tempting, to just reach in, pull off a coin. It'd just be one coin, the goldfish girl surely wouldn't miss it.

_No,_ Brent thought to himself. _Remember the contract._ There were only three rules, easy enough to remember: Feed her twice a day, always burn the incense D had supplied, and never reach into the bowl.

The last one would be the hardest; the coins were just sitting there, twinkling up at him, reflecting the first rays of the morning sun. But Brent stayed still, and after a few minutes of watching and waiting, a coin fell off the dress, sinking to the bottom of the bowl with a soft "plink", muffled by the water. He watched on in apprehensive silence. The fish swam after it, gently picking it up between webbed fingers, bringing it up to the surface. Brent hesitated, then took the coin. "Thanks, I guess?" He spoke softly, not wanting to be dismissed as just another crazy living in the gutter.

* * *

"This is the life!" Brent Park reclined on a velvet chaise lounge, his arm around a beautiful woman in a skimpy black dress.

The woman tittered softly into her hand. "Tell me again, Mr. Park, how you came into all this money?"

The two were in the penthouse suite of the most luxurious hotel in the area. Brent had rented it out for the night, and the suite was packed with people. Everyone inside was having a great time. There was drunken dancing, drunken sex, and drunken drunkenness. Everyone outside wanted to be in; Brent was giving out free booze!

"Well, my great-grandpa was a pirate, and he…."

A man appeared behind Brent, soft blonde hair hanging in his face. "I thought it was your grandpa? That's what you said before."

Brent laughed heartily, smoothing out his now gelled-back hair with one hand. He looked quite the millionaire, dressed in a black silk suit with tiny gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. "Well, they both were pirates."

"Whatever, man… There's a poker game starting up. You want in?"

Brent nodded his head, slowly standing, squeezed the woman's waist, then followed the blonde man to a table with several men sitting around smoking. He sat down and picked up his cards.

* * *

The following evening found Brent perched on the edge of the bed, staring at a slip of paper in his hand: The caterer's bill. It was far too high, he didn't have enough to pay. Damn, his guests drank like fishes…. Fish. The man stood, walking over to the fishbowl set on his dresser. The little golden pixie stared complacently up at him, golden coins glittering teasingly. Brent bit his lip, reaching in and yanking off several of the coins. Then suddenly, he stopped. His other hand flew to his throat, but in mere milliseconds he fell with a thump to the floor.

* * *

"Yeah, Orcot. Another one… Brent Park, you know, the guy they're all talking about? The one who threw that wild hotel party two nights ago?" A chubby black agent leaned against the water cooler of the FBI headquarters. "They found him asphyxiated in his hotel room, clutching a handful of goldfish scales. You mind checking it out?" 


End file.
